Best Laid Plans
by OtterFrog
Summary: Even though he can come up with the most advanced weaponry they don't always do what he expect them to. Having an incompetent robot doesn't exactly help, either! Finished! Now to get started on my next lil Zim tale:D
1. Chapter 1

Invader Zim 'Best Laid Plans'

_Ok, I guess I should do the usual disclaimer bit that I don't own Invader Zim or any of its characters, yadda yadda yadda. 'Course if I did I would still be doing my level best to keep the show alive! Anyways, this fic came about as I was thinking of the many ways Zim could get into trouble at the skool and what would become of it. Suddenly the image of one of my favorite Coyote/Roadrunner (belonging to Time/Warner, natch) cartoons came to mind. One has to feel a bit sorry for the Coyote and then one would have to feel rather sorry for poor Zim here! But then again, isn't that the job of us fanfiction writers, to take and abuse our favorite characters in some manner, shape of form? ;)_

Chapter One

Inside the 'normal' human house with all the yard gnomes that for some reason gave off an unsettling air, high-pitched noises could be heard. If one happened to be in the living room of the strange house they would be treated to the sight of a small robot dancing around and singing.

'Waffles and tacos! Waffles and tacos! Wouldn't it be just awful! If we had no waffle! …Or tacos."

Momentarily confused, Gir sat down and began to recite the list of words that rhymed with the word 'tacos'.

'Bacos. Lacos. Nacos. Dacos. Pacos. Hacos. Moroccos. Maracas!'

His mind distracted once again, Gir suddenly had a pair of maracas in his grips and merrily shook them to the accompaniment of his dance. 'Maracos tacos! Moracos tacos!'

This act also didn't last very long as his robotic hearing sensors picked up the familiar stomping sounds of his master, one Invader by the name of Zim, approaching. The robot realized it was time he had come home from the human skool where he spent his days studying the humans he so despised. Gone were the maracas and Gir stood at attention. Unfortunately he was upside down so the total effect was lost.

BLAM!

Instead of merely opening the door and slamming it behind him, Zim had viciously kicked it open. When the two robot 'parents swept forward with their programmed 'Welcome home, son!' Zim didn't even look at them. He snatched up a button from his pak as he stomped past and pressed it, blowing the unfortunate robots to scattered bits behind him all over the room.

Gir was entranced. "Me next! Me! Me! Meeee!" he squealed eagerly as he clapped his hands.

"Shut up, Gir." Zim growled as he stomped off to the kitchen to the entrance of his underground lair.

Gir slumped, disappointed. "Awwwww…but I wanted to explode!" His lip trembled until he looked down at the rolling eyes of the destroyed robots. "Oooo dice!" Snatching them up he put them in a cup and shook them. "Anybody wanna play Yatzee?"

Down in his lab, Zim flung his skoolbooks as hard as he could on the floor. Those infuriating, irritating, stinking HUMANS! How DARE they?

One of the books flew across the large room and landed in the tub filled with paste. A glob of that was dislodged and flew back to hit Zim squarely in the face as he was removing the irritating human eye lenses.

This did not improve his mood.

"GARF SNAZ! He screamed at the top of his lungs. 'IS ANYTHING GOING TO GO RIGHT TODAY?"

"I had a nice day," Gir broke in. Tiring of his 'dice' he had ventured down to see if his master had any more entertaining ideas. "First I had some waffles. Then later I had some tacos. Then even later I put the two together and made….Taco Waffles!" He squealed with pleasure at his cleverness.

Zim, wiping the paste from his countenance, glared at him. "I'm very happy for you," he growled in a dangerously low tone.

"Want some?" Gir popped his head open and pulled out some rather mangled waffles folded over and stuffed with taco mix. He scooped up the dripping mix, restuffed it in the waffle and proffered it to the small alien.

If looks could kill, Gir would have been vaporized on the spot.

"I want you," Zim said carefully and slowly, trying extremely hard to keep in control. "To leave me alone. Got it? Go back up and stand guard. Don't let ANYBODY in! Can you do that?"

"I can!" came the cheery reply. Zim knew better.

"But will you?"

"I…um…..uh…I….what was the question again?"

"It wasn't a QUESTION! It was an ORDER! I ORDER YOU TO GO BACK UP AND STAND GUARD! DO NOT ALLOW ANYONE IN! DO NOT GO OUT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW?"

"But….what if the ice cream man came? Can I go out then?" Gir inquired meekly.

Zim took a deep breath, raised his fists in fury, gritted his teeth, then exhaled in defeat. "Oh very well. If he comes around you may go. And get me a pineapple popsicle."

"Yay!" Gir cheered and raced back to the transport tube.

Zim turned back to the rest of the lab and tripped over the skoolbooks that didn't travel as far as the one in the paste bath. This only reminded him of why he was so angry in the first place. "GRAWGH!" he snarled as he kicked them away.

He stood there, seething, fuming, gritting his teeth until they almost cracked. These filthy puny humans, how he hated them! His tolerance of their primitive disgusting behaviors was reaching its edge. If it weren't for the orders of the Tall Ones he would have found a way to simply blow up this meaningless planet and gone long ago.

But especially today! Today they had crossed the line! They had gone too far! And now, somehow, they must PAY!

Zim stalked over to the lab table and yanked the chair away. He plomped down in the seat with the usual angry force but almost immediately grabbed the chair arms and pulled himself up a bit. He waited a couple of moments then gingerly sat back down. He gritted his teeth once more and swore savagely. Oh yes, they will pay dearly!

He was used to getting into trouble at the skool and dismissed it all. After all, what did he care if his grades were getting low? Of what use were they to him, the Mighty Zim? Paltry things, expecting him to use them as a guide to his so-called studies. The only thing he was studying was THEM! And they had yet to figure that out! Stupid stinky humans.

Missing homework assignments, disregarded book reports, refusals to engage in other school activities, so what? What could they do and why should he care? All that happened were some boring lectures from the teachers, and more homework. He sniffed at the stupid logic of that 'punishment'. If he didn't do the work in the first place, did they actually think adding more was going to sway him to waste more time on it?

Stupid brainless humans.

Then came detention. That was actually pleasant. It was relatively quiet in the room, aside from other troublemakers who occasionally tried to goad him into rubber band fights or threw paper wads at him. He ignored them and consoled himself with the thoughts of how he would repay all of them once the Irken armada came. Oh, the things he would do! He would relish their screams as they endured his numerous torments! Sometimes he enjoyed those daydreams so much he didn't realize when detention was up and he had ended up locked in the room and had to call Gir to come and release him.

When the teachers saw such chastisements didn't faze him, they sent him off to the principal's office. His lectures were even more boring. The only thing that kept Zim from blasting him off the face of the planet was the fact that the principal was the tallest human in the skool and although he –was- just a stupid stinking human, the tall factor was so engrained in Zim's being that he kept mum and accepted the dull monotone berating.

Then the notes for his 'parents' to sign so they could be alerted to his behavior. The notes were designed to self-destruct if he had tried to forge any signatures himself and he had to rely on his computer to do the work. Gir couldn't be trusted as the little robot was more inclined to add drawings of piggies and such but the computer wasn't much better. Oh, it signed the papers well enough for Zim to hand in but the snerking sounds it continued to make for some time afterwards were almost too much to bear. After the third 'Been naughty in skool again, have we?' remark Zim had threatened to reprogram it with a hammer and phase drill to silence the annoying machine.

In the name of the Tallest, why couldn't he have been sent off on this mission with competent aid?

Next came the request to –meet- his parents or have them come into the skool offices but Zim had quickly invented the lie of them 'being out of the country for a science conference on mongooses' and it had been accepted. He had felt quite smug about all the attempts to discipline him and that he had found ways to go around each and every one….until today.

It had been several weeks since his last scheme to bring the humans to their knees and the stress of pondering had taken its toll. When asked by Ms. Bitters for his assigned report on cheese he had snapped back a smart remark because she had shaken him out of his deep (for him) train of thought.

"So you dare to court doom by mocking me?" she told him in an oily almost gleeful voice. "We shall see about that! To the principal's office with you! And give this to him!"

Snatching the note and dragging the hall pass behind him, (This time it was attached to a concrete block) Zim had stalked out of the classroom and headed to the end of the long dreary hallway to the office door. He had entered the room, flung down the pass, tossed the note on the receptionist's desk and climbed onto the uncomfortable wooden seat to once more dive into his dark thoughts of earthy conquest.

It wasn't long before the other door opened and the principal motioned for him to come inside. In a bored manner Zim had obeyed.

The wooden chairs inside were as uncomfortable as the ones outside, as opposed to the nice cushy wheeled one the principal sank into. It gave a slight squeak as he sank back into it, studying Ms. Bitters' note.

Some day I shall have a seat such as that, Zim thought. Only mine will be MUCH taller! With missile controls on one arm and lasers on the other! A microphone to extend my commands will be attached on the headrest so everyone shall hear me! Hear me and despair! Oh, and it shall have a vibrating footrest too. And a nice cup-holder.

His thoughts were interrupted once again as the principal leaned forward. "Well then, Zim. It seems our simple requests for you to do your skoolwork has once again fallen upon deaf ears." Here he glanced up and noted Zim's lack of the outwardly appearance of any hearing sensory organ and cleared his throat. "Oh, sorry. Surely you can understand that we are only looking out for your future and welfare. Can't you even meet us halfway?"

"Half…way?" Zim wasn't sure what standing halfway down the hall would accomplish, but then again, it –was- just a human talking.

"Yes. Can't you even give SOME work done to hand in? Just a few sentences? Make an attempt? That wouldn't take up much of your valuable time now, wouldn't it?" The principal stressed the word 'valuable' to make it clear he didn't think Zim had anything else to do that was more valued than the homework. "Who knows, you might even learn something!"

"Zim does not wish to learn about cheese. Zim does not wish to learn most of this what you teach here. It is of no use to Zim!" This was the first time Zim had actually back-talked to the principal but his patience (which was of a very small quantity anyway) had reached its end. "Of what use is 'cheese' to Zim?"

"You know, this talking in third person really grates on the nerves after a bit, Zim. Can't you speak normal, for once?"

"'Normal'? Like you? Ha! Zim does not need 'normal'."

"So, in other words, you're not going to do this very simple bit of work Ms. Bitters had assigned you?"

"Zim does not need to waste Zim's time on such drivel!"

The principal had given a very heavy sigh and tossed the note onto his desk. "Well then, you leave me no choice here. No choice at all. You've brought this all on yourself. Come over here."

Zim gave him a puzzled look. The principal sighed again.

"Look, Zim. We have tried everything. We have been patient with you, even tried to be understanding. I see it just doesn't sink in! Extra work, detention, the notes, nothing!"

Zim changed his expression from puzzled to smug. They could not wear down the Mighty Zim!

"So now we have to resort to….corporal punishment."

The smug look returned to puzzled. Corporal. He didn't realize they had military titles in this skool. Why hadn't he seen this before? It should have been obvious.

"Come over here," the principal ordered again, standing up. Zim slipped down off the chair and walked over to stand besides the desk. How tall this human was!

"Turn around and put your hands on the desk." came the order. Zim did so as he heard a drawer slide open and something gotten out. Moments later he felt a sharp painful smack square on his posterior.

HE WAS BEING PADDLED!

Paddled as if he were just a small smeet once again, barely old enough to stand. Outrage rose in his throat like bitter bile but he swallowed it down and bore it as best he could. He received half a dozen blows before the paddle was returned to the drawer and the principal ordered him out.

"Let this be a lesson to you, young man. We can't tolerate continual disobedience around here. Makes our skool look bad! Don't you agree?"

"Gnnnnrkkk.." was all Zim could manage to reply from between his gritted teeth. His hands were behind him, gingerly rubbing the attacked area. The human nodded.

"All right now. Get back to class. And do your work!"

Zim was so furious he was certain smoke should have been streaming from his head as he stalked back. Kids who would usually mock him now took one look and carefully got out of his way as if he were a rabid grizzly. One kid was so scared he started sniffling and had to be consoled by another classmate. The Irken re-entered the classroom, resisted the almost overwhelming urge to slam the door and took his seat, slowly and carefully. This caused a few mocking giggles to echo about him and he had to send a few murderous glares about to quell them.

Ms. Bitters gave a satisfied nod and then addressed the rest of the class. "All right, we've had our amusement for today. Please open the books to page 145, if you happened to have at least one of your books intact, you miserable miscreants."

Zim found his hands shaking with rage as he picked out the book required and he gripped it so hard he was sure he was going to bend the covers. He had never felt so humiliated!

After skool Dib tried to egg him on about the incidence. "Well now, how did that feel, hm? Being whacked by an 'inferior' being! Takes you down a few rungs, doesn't it? I bet it hurt!"

Zim whirled on him so quickly that the boy stumbled back. "Mark my words, meaningless human, they will pay for this! They ALL shall pay! Zim will NEVER forget this!"

His eyes were burning with such fury that Dib decided that perhaps now wasn't the best time to bother the alien. There would be other opportunities, after all.

"Uh..oh..yeah..ah..sure! Sure they will! Ah..ok…bye !"

Back in his lab Zim shook his head vigorously as if to try to lose all memory of the day's events. No, no he shouldn't forget. As he had told Dib, they will pay for his pain and humiliation!

But…how?

He didn't want to wait for the Irken Force to wreck his revenge; he wanted to taste that sweet concotion NOW! As soon as possible! There had to be a way.

"GI….AHHH!" H had swung around yelling for his robot servant but seeing Gir unexpectedly right next to him made him turn the commanding yell into a startled yelp. "What do you think you're doing!"

Gir held up a frozen treat in response. "You wanted a pineapple popsicle."


	2. Chapter 2

Invader Zim 'Best Laid Plans'

Chapter Two

Gir sat quietly for once, licking away at a popsicle while watching Zim stalking up and down the underground lab, taking small bites of his own frozen treat and muttering to himself.

"They DARE lay HANDS upon ME! That who should be their MASTER? They touched me with their FILTHY wooden weapon and expect me to just FORGET about it? Zim shall NEVER forget this insult! I shall make them PAY for this! They will RUE the day they tried to chastise ZIM!"

Gir had no idea just what they had done but from Zim's attitude it must have been very bad indeed. His eyes glowed red for a moment. "Shall I go and obliterate them for you, master?"

It was tempting but Zim waved the offer aside. (Besides, what sort of 'obliteration' could Gir do anyway? He'd be distracted by something as simple as a leaf blowing by and that would be the end of it.) "No, that would be too quick, too sudden. I want them to suffer as I had suffered, to feel the same pain, the same humiliation they inflicted upon…." His eyes lit upon a small object Gir was sitting on and he frowned. "Gir, what is that?"

"It's a popsicle stick!" Gir said brightly. "I finished my popsicle! You can make stuff with it! Can I have yours when you're done? I want to make a fairy castle for Piggy!"

"No no, what is that you're sitting on?"

Gir looked down, puzzled, then he caught sight of what Zim was referring to and snatched it up. "It's a fly swatter! Sometimes flies want my popsicle too and I swish this to keep them away." He cheerfully stuck the swatter in his mouth like a large lollipop. "Works on bees too," he mumbled around it.

Zim held his hand out and Gir obediently gave up the item. The Irken studied it for a moment then swished it through the air. He held it as a mechanical arm would and swished a bit more. A grin slowly spread across his face.

"That's it, Gir! I shall build a machine, one that will attack the humans as they attacked me! I shall build a…." His grin grew wider as his purple orbs narrowed. "I shall build a PADDLING MACHINE!"

"Wheeee!" Gir clapped. "Do you have enough popsicle sticks?"

It took a couple more weeks of Zim drawing out plans, scribbling out some parts and redoing others before he decided it was time to send Gir out to scrounge for materials. He felt it was beneath the glory of the Irken Empire to use parts in his own lab for such so Gir went out time and time again dragging back bits and pieces of metal, wires, pipes and anything else his master ordered. Unfortunately he also dragged back useless items such as torn doggy toys, patio furniture and flower pots with holes in them so there was a steady stream of flotsam heading either to or from the hidden Irken base almost nightly.

Finally there came the time when Zim threw down a tool he had been currently using and exclaimed "YES! It is FINISHED!" He stepped back to admire his handiwork. It looked to be a mass of various mechanical arms surrounding the lower part of one of the unfortunate robot parents seated on an old kitchen chair. One arm held a wooden paddle, one held a folded belt, one the fly swatter and still another with just a flattened hand. The other two were simple catch-and-hold claws. The kitchen chair was above a larger metal box with controls, gears, levers and buttons. It looked…..rather vicious.

Gir looked up from his own project (making a flowerpot out of a discarded dog Kong toy) and cheered. "Yay! You did it!" Skipping over he looked at it with his head cocked to one side. "What is it?"

"This, Gir ,is what shall make those stupid insulting humans at that skool beg my forgiveness! It is my Ultimate…..uh…Diabolical…..um….PADDLING MACHINE! I…am a GENIUS!"

"It paddles?" Gir brightened. "Like a canoe? Whee! When can we take it out to try it?"

"No, no Gir. Not that kind of paddling. The paddling they dared to give me a short while ago."

"They gave you a canoe? Where is it?"

"No, it wasn't a canoe, it was a paddling."

"You went paddling in a canoe? Without Gir?" The small robot's cyan eyes began to tear up. Zim sighed and stared up at the ceiling as if seeking divine help in explaining things.

"They used a wooden paddle on me, Gir. As in punishment. They dared to strike me with it, several times."

"Did it give you a headache?"

"They didn't hit me on the head, Gir."

"Where then?"

"Ah…don't you have any dictionary anywhere in your programming?"

"I think so. Mebbe. Is it yellow?"

"How would I know? Look, the filthy humans dared to strike me on the….posterior, all right? "

"'Posterior'" Gir mouthed the unfamiliar word. His eyes went red. "The polar opposite to the anterior end. Dorsal. Located behind a part or toward the rear of a structure. Caudal. Tail. Rear. Seat, Butt. As…"

"That's enough, Gir" Zim sighed. "Understand now?"

Gir's eyes resumed their cyan blue and he looked sadly at his master. "They spanked you? Poor Master!"

Zim waved his robot's sympathy away. "No matter now. I shall repay them! With THIS!"

"Did it hurt?"

"What? Well, yes, of course it did! Now with this…"

"Did it hurt bad?"

"Gir, it doesn't matter now. With this I shall…."

"Does it still hurt?" Gir's lower lip trembled with sympathy and he handed a rather shoddy teddy bear to Zim. "Poor master!"

Zim sighed. "I'm fine now. All right? I am not hurting now!"

He pushed a bright red button and the whole contraption shuddered into motion. The arms waved their items menacingly and it gave a complete whirl before settling, quivering, in place, waiting and ready for action. Gir dropped the teddy bear, squeaked and hid behind Zim, who gave a mad laugh. "YES! It works! Now see how all of them shall pay for my SUFFERING!"

"It's…it's…a…spanking machine?" Gir said in a low tone, still behind Zim. "Does it work?"

"Of COURSE it WORKS!" The alien whirled on his robot angrily. "Well, at least…it SHOULD work! It WILL work! After all, it was –I- who created it!"

He turned back, a thoughtful look on his face. "But it wouldn't hurt to give it a test run. Hmm. Let me set it first."

At the control board he twisted a few dials and moved a few levers. "Yess….pressure at twenty five pounds….level at forty five degrees…just so...number of swats set at…hmmm…..the filthy human struck me six times so I shall DOUBLE it! Ha haaa! Now, the weapons to be used… the paddle, the swatter,….or ALL of the instruments…..how about…three strikes from each! HAA!"

He hit one more switch before he stepped back in total satisfaction. "Gir!"

Gir stepped up obediently (for a change.) "Hm?"

"Go over there and stand on that red spot on the floor!" Zim commanded.

"Why?"

"Because I ordered you to!"

"But…why?"

Zim closed his eyes and counted the Irken version of ten. "Because if you do, waffles will fall down from the ceiling!"

"Waffles! Whee!" Gir scampered over and stood where Zim had pointed, staring at the ceiling in eager anticipation. And waited.

And waited.

Zim pursed his lips in confusion.

Gir looked disappointed. "Where's the waffles? You said there would be waffles!"

"Are you standing on the red spot?"

"What red spot?"

Gir looked down at his feet and Zim followed suit. Sure enough, there was no red spot anywhere.

"Oh ZARGH! I forgot to put it down!" Zim went to a nearby drawer and rummaged about in it. "I KNOW I have one SOMEWHERE! AHA!"

He held up a flashy piece of red metal designed to reflect a red beam back to whatever machine it was programmed to, to trigger any mechanisms that needed to be activated. "This red spot, Gir!"

"Ooooo pretty!" Gir squealed, stepping back out of the way as Zim moved to place it in the right position.

"Now! Stand right here, Gir and….uh…oh…" Zim realized too late that his placing the red disc down and straightening up afterwards had reflected the required light beam and the machine' armatures swung in his direction. "No WAIT! STOP! DISARM! HALT!"

Too late. One arm grabbed his feet while another grabbed his arms. He was picked up and swung over to be stretched across the 'lap' of the robot parent, still struggling. "What! STOP THIS! I DEMAND YOU PUT ME DOWN! I CREATED YOU! STOP! NOOO!" Unfortunately this machine was built pretty well as no amount of struggling could gain him his freedom. "I ORDER YOU TO….AUGHH!"

The machine obviously was not programmed to recognize any vocal command, as the set number of blows was delivered quickly and efficiently. Gir watched in silence, slightly flinching himself at each strike. Afterwards Zim was picked up again and rather gently set back on his feet. His eyes were bulging with fury.

"YOU STUPID MACHINE! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO PADDLE HUMANS! HUMANS ONLY! YOU…YOU… Oww ohhh."

Moaning, he turned and limped off, once again carefully rubbing his rear. Gir followed loyally. "Do you want waffles, master? Or a pillow?"


	3. Chapter 3

Invader Zim

Chapter Three

It took a few hours of soaking in a warm paste bath before Zim felt comfortable enough to tackle the problem once more. He studied the machine carefully, walking around it, studying it from different angles as he pondered how to improve the attack mode.

"Ah-HAA! I've got it, Gir!"

"Waffles?" came the tinny hopeful voice.

"No, you idiot robot. The SOLUTION! It needs a motion detection device!"

Once more Zim scurried about the lab, opening drawers and various metal storage chests. He chose one or two instruments from each one, tucking them under his arm, until he had gathered everything he needed. He carried them to the side of his invention and dropped them all down with a clatter. He chose one from the pile and was about to start when he froze in place.

"Ah..no, better turn it off first." He muttered to himself. He walked to the back where the control panel was and pushed the 'off' button. "There! Now to work. Hmm, the reach of the catching arm should be twice the distance of the activation area…."

He carefully measured the length of the arm with his laser measuring tape and wrote down the results on his pad then began calculating what else was needed for this purpose. Gir watched him from the other side of the room, for the time being entertained by his master writing seemingly complex sums in the air with the pad marker, muttering to himself and occasionally biting the end of the marker in deep concentration. The robot even took to imitating his actions until Zim noticed what he was doing.

"Gir, stop it. Try to find something useful to do!"

"What?"

"Oh, go make waffles or something. Just leave me alone."

"I already made waffles."

"All right all right then…..go and…I don't know…DUST something! You're distracting me from my brilliant work!"

"Ok! I'll dust!" Somehow Gir produced a handful of dust from within his head (or maybe that really isn't all that surprising?) and began to lightly coat the lab surfaces with it.

"Gir! What do you think you're doing! STOP IT!"

The little robot froze in mid-sprinkle. "But you said to dust…."

Zim uttered a low noise of exasperation and rubbed his temple. "Gir, on this planet 'dust' means the removal of such material, not the ADDITION OF IT!"

"Oh." Gir looked down at his hand which still had a bit of dust in it, then cheerfully tossed it up in the air above him. "Happy New Year!" he cried out as it floated down.

Zim uttered the noise again. "Clean up now. Gir."

"Ok!"

Wondering for not the first thousandth time why this model was supposed to be so 'Advanced' as the Tallest claimed it was, Zim went back to the new programming. It was really simple; the receptors could only function a few feet ahead of them so that anything standing in that zone would trigger the machine rather than the light beams. All that was required now was the final tweaking in the claw hands to respond. He had just completed that task when he noticed Gir standing at the controls. "Gir! Now what are you doing? Get away from there!"

"I have to dust," came the answer. "Oooo what's this do?"

"GIR DON'T TOUCH THAT BUTTON! GIR! NOOOO! STOP! HALT!"

Once again the machine clanked to life and grabbed the first thing in its newly programmed zone, namely Zim. Once again he was lifted up, struggling, and placed across the lap of the robot parent. Once again he felt just how well his contraption worked!

Gir stood there and watched. "Hey, it's hitting you again. What did you do this time? You must have made it mad at you!"

Zim, set upon his feet after the thrashing, glared at his robot servant. "Gir, when I get back so help me I shall find some way to keep you out of trouble

even if I have to lock you up in a solid block of SPACE GRANITE!"

He winced and rubbed himself.

"But first, heat up my paste bath."


	4. Chapter 4

Invader Zim

Chapter Four

"Master…"

"No."

"But master.."

"But nothing. You're not coming down here and that's THAT!"

"I won't do anything. I promise!"

"NO! I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOUR INCOMPENTENCE! STAY UP THERE!"

"B..b..but..master.."

"NO!"

Gir sat forlornly at the foot of the toilet that served as the base entrance and let tears drop from his eyes to the floor. His master didn't want him around any more. Didn't need him. Just..didn't. And what good is a robot when it is not needed? He began to utter a high thin wail.

"Master doesn't love me anymoreeeeee!"

The sound pierced each and all of the base's defenses to reach Zim and he gave a shudder as his body reacted to it in the same manner a human would to a fingernail scratching on a blackboard. He would never be able to get his new machine and plan up and running with this distraction. He had no choice, he had to go up and console his robot.

Much as he hated to. He was still pretty sore and he still blamed Gir for each of those bruises he had acquired. He threw down the tool he had been using with a low growl and stalked to the transport tube.

At the top he stared down at his servant, still keening on the floor. "Gir."

Gir continued to wail, not hearing his master over his own sound.

Zim tried again, louder. "Gir!"

"WAAAAAAHHhhhh!"

"GIR!"

"WAA..oh, hi master!"

From the cheerfulness of the greeting Gir seemed to have forgotten the very reason he had been crying. Zim had no doubts that he did. "Do you really want to help me?"

Gir jumped up and did a small dance. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh yes! I dooooooo!"

"All right all right. Hmmm." Zim hopped down to the floor (albeit a bit painfully) and began pacing about, rubbing his chin and trying to locate some chore that would be simple enough for Gir to grasp and yet complicated enough to keep him occupied for a time.

This was not easy.

It took about ten minutes before he hit upon what he hoped would be a safe plan. "Gir, see all your movie tapes up there on the shelf?"

Gir looked up, then back at Zim, and nodded.

So far so good. "All right, Gir. What you need to do is take each of those tapes and place them over on THOSE shelves over there!" Here he indicated the shelves on the other side of the room, stacked with books.

"But master, there are books on those shelves." Gir pointed out.

"That's right, Gir. That means you have to take those books, and stack them on the shelves HERE. Understand?"

"Move them over there and those over here." Gir gestured as he recited the task. "But why?"

Zim closed his eyes for a moment, then brightly told of his reason. "Because it seems the base is just a –little- off balanced and this will help keep everything level! Do you understand? It's very important, Gir! Don't fail me!"

Gir's eyes suddenly glowed red, to indicate one of the very few times he could operate as an Irken robot would. "Sir yes sir!" he intoned smartly, but the moment didn't last. It never did. "I'll do a good job this time! You'll see!" he squealed as he hugged his master about the neck.

Zim coughed and gagged, robot arms were never meant for affectional embraces. "Yes yes, Gir! That's fine! That's..*gack*.. you can..*gasp*..let go now!"

Gir dropped him in a crumpled heap and turned to begin his 'job', humming to himself as he did so. Zim picked himself off the floor and returned to his lab, rubbing his neck.

Back to the job at hand. Zim had given up on using a light beam sensor or the motion detection system. This invention had shown that it required something with a bit more finesse. It had taken another hour's study but then the short alien hit upon using a false pavement in front with a pressure plate underneath. All a human would have to do is step right in front of it and then they would be ensnared! He chuckled to himself as he imagined the first victim being Dib himself. Of course he would be! Didn't that puny stupid human demonstrate time and again how nosy he was! All Zim needed to do was prop this in his front yard and the nosy-nosed Dib would not be able to resist coming right up to investigate! Oh it just was going to be too easy! Zim could hardly wait to view such a spectacle.

Gir was still upstairs humming joyfully as he went from removing tapes and books and putting them in their new places. It was good to have the master not mad at him anymore. Didn't Gir do his best to do whatever his master wanted, no matter how silly it seemed? And to be entrusted with regaining the balance of the whole base! Gir couldn't help adding a bit of dance moves to his humming and he twirled happily in the middle of the living room while he held a stack of books.

Centrifugal force won out and the top book shot away, un-noticed, from his stack.

The book hit the far wall and slid down, hitting the cup in which Gir had stored the parent robots' eyes.

The cup toppled over, allowing the eyes to roll about on the floor once more.

One of the eyes rolled back in the kitchen and gently came to rest against the broom leaning against a wall. It was a gentle touch but just enough to have the broom slowly slide down and the wooden handle hit the latch on one of the cabinets.

The cabinet door flew open, hitting a cup that was on the top of the stacked dishes on the counter.

The cup struck a box of cereal on its way down, causing it to fall as well.

The cereal box fell on the lever of the trash can, which was another entrance to the underground lab, leaving it wide open.

When the cabinet door was open a baseball slowly rolled out. (Why was there a baseball in the kitchen cabinet? I don't know. Ask Gir!) The ball bounced off the counter, once on the floor, then on its last bounce went right down the garbage can tube.

It tumbled down the chute to end up rolling about on the lab floor.

Zim was just winding up with the final adjustments, still chuckling at the thought of Dib writhing and screaming in the grips of this marvelous machine. Only a genius could come up with such a…..

A movement caught the corner of his eye and he paused to get a better view. It was a baseball. Where did it come from and why was it in his lab?

More importantly, why was it rolling straight towards him?

A small bead of sweat started to do its own rolling down the side of Zim's face. Time seemed to have frozen all around him, save for the motion of that ball. Right for him. And right for the pressure plate.

Too late Zim realized its direction and even as he turned to leap out of the reach of the claws the baseball came to rest squarely on the plate. (Now just what are the odds of that happening, hmmm?) Once again he felt himself snatched up and placed in the machine's punishing motions. "HALT! STOP! I ORDER YOU TO…AUUUGGHH!"

Gir had just replaced the very last book when he heard the sound of raspy breathing coming from behind him. He turned and saw Zir glaring at him with the look of sheer hatred. He cocked his head curiously. His master seemed a bit….disheveled.

"I've finished, Master! Look! All nice and balanced now!"

Zim coughed and limped toward him, wincing at each movement. "You mean…to tell me…that you have been up here…THE WHOLE TIME!"

"Um…yes!"

Zim didn't drop the Glare of Death at his servant, he only raised his fist and shook it in the robot's face.

"I don't know how you did it.." he rasped. "BU I KNOW YOU DID IT!"

He made a motion as if he was going to strike the confused robot down but the look gave way to complete pain and weariness. "Ooo, what's the use…" he moaned. "Gir, heat up the paste bath."


	5. Chapter 5

Invader Zim

Chapter Five

The effects of the warm paste bath didn't seem to help as it once did and each movement from Zim was stiff and painful. It wasn't just the amount of abuse his seat had gotten but the bruises on his arms and legs from the gripping and holding claws as well. Even then he kept up with the work of perfecting his paddling machine.

Gir stood by patiently and quietly in front of the machine. Actually he didn't have much choice, he was firmly and completely tied up. He cocked his head as he watched Zim disengage the pressure plate and toss all the components aside.

"THIS time," the robot heard him hiss between his teeth. "THIS time the controls shall be MANUAL! I shall stand behind here and work this MYSELF!" He looked up and glared through the tangle of arms at Gir. "And THIS TIME you will NOT INTERFERE!"

"WhaddidIdooooo?" came the mournful reply.

"NOTHING! And THAT is PRECISELY WHY everything got messed up and –I- was the one ATTACKED AND INJURED! But now…now!" He shook an instrument at Gir. "This time it shall be DIFFERENT!" Giving a satisfied nod he went back to the needed adjustments.

Gir could take only a few minutes of just standing and doing nothing. "This is boring. I'm bored!" he whined. "I don't like this."

"You think I like being paddled every hour or so?" Zim's voice was muffled as he was half in and half out of the machine's control box. "You can tolerate boredom for a bit."

Gir brightened. "I can sing the Doom Song!"

"NO!" Zim jerked his head out so quickly he banged it on the doorway. Flinching back from that made him fall backwards on his rather tender rear. "OOWWW! …Gnarfulgarffrudinessheffekump.."

Gir listened to the mumbled words as Zim rubbed both head and rump at the same time. "Oooo what you said!."

"STOP IT!" Zim stumbled forward painfully. "Just STOP IT! NO SINGING! You UNDERSTAND!"

"Ok." Gir sighed.

Zim retrieved the tool he had been using and gingerly made his way back into the control box.

"Can I hum?"

"No."

"Recite poetry? I made a nice verse about piggies!"

"No, Gir."

"Can we play the Eye Spy game? I spy with my little eye…"

"NO, Gir. Just stand there and be quiet."

"But this is boorrrrriiinnngggggg."

Zim sighed heavily. "Do you see the ceiling panels above you?"

Gir looked up obediently at the silvered metal panels. "Yes!"

"Count them, ok? I want to know how many we have."

"Ok! One..two..three…four…four and a half…"

Zim paused. "A half?"

"It's in a corner."

"Ah."

Before Gir even reached five counting bored him even more and he began adding verses he had heard from the humans' tv. "Seven eight, a nice red steak. Nine ten, a big fat hen! Eleven twelve…..um…Master?"

"Hm?"

"What rhymes with 'twelve'."

"I don't know. Don't bother me."

"But I can't count anymore without a rhyme for twelve."

A deep sigh once more echoed from inside the control box. "Make up a word."

"Eleven twelve, Piggies shelved!"

"I thought you didn't know a word that rhymed with twelve?"

"I just remembered it! Thirteen fourteen…..ah…"

Before Gir could ask Zim quickly stated "No I don't know what rhymes with fourteen!"

"I do! A box of Borateen!" Gir crowed triumphantly.

There was a repeat of the deep sigh.

Gir had reached 'One thousand six, a pile of sticks!' when Zir slowly backed out of the control unit and straightened up with a tired sigh.

"All right, this is it." He said firmly. "It's adjusted to perfection. The ONLY thing that will activate this is ME! Standing HERE at the CONROLS and PUSHING the BUTTON!"

He looked over at Gir. "You can stop counting now."

"But I haven't reached where I can use the word 'spleen'!" The robot complained.

"Never mind that. Are you ready?"

Gir looked about as if expecting something to spring out. "For what?"

"Ready for THE TEST!" Zim began moving the levers, aiming the machine straight towards Gir.

"Master, I need to tell you something."

"Hm?" Zim wasn't really paying attention.

"You might get mad at me. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? AHA!" Zim got the arms maneuvered to his satisfaction and jabbed the 'attack' button.

"I…touched your machine." Gir gave a small sniffle. "When you were in the bath."

"You..you what?" Zim looked up as the arms began to sway about, as in indecision.

"I just touched it, just a little. It just looked so looonely, sitting there. All alone."

"What…what did you…. 'touch just a little', Gir?" Zim began backing away, nervously. The arms seem to sense his movements and the machine started to swivel around.

"It was a pretty lever with a funny name. I just moved it a little…"

"WHAT….LEVER…. GIR!"

"It said…um..it said…uh…Reverse!"

"REVERSE? GIR….WHY DID YOU….NOOOOOOO! STOP! YYAAAAAAHHHH!"


	6. Chapter 6

Invader Zim

Chapter Six

Zim stood glumly in front of the messaging screen he used to report to his superiors, the Red and Purple, their Tallnesses. He really wished he could think of a way to turn this report to his advantage but no matter how he twisted and turned it, it all remained the same. A dismal failure.

Still, he had to report in. An Invader must take the bad along with the good, he told himself. Zim took a deep breath and hit the connection button.

The first thing that came into view was the Red Tallest. He yawned, as if he had been woken from a nap. "Oh, it's you. Ok, so go ahead and tell me. What did you do and how did it go against the…uh….what'd you call them again?"

"Humans, Your Tallness."

"Oh. Oh yeah, humans." The Red casually waved one hand. "Whatever. Proceed."

"Well, Your Tallness, it…didn't go…very well this time…. You see….I was….ah…injured in the line of duty." Well, it sounded good.

"But you survived. Obviously." The Purple Tallest came into view with a fresh box of whatever the Irken version of popcorn was. "Injured, huh? Well, you now have some battle scars to brag about." He offered the popcorn to Red. "Scars always look good on the resume."

"Yes..well….um…yes."

"Hey," Red sat up and gave the screen a bit more scrutiny. "Hey, aren't you sitting up a bit…higher than usual?" I don't remember you filling the screen as much."

"Um…" Zim wished their screen didn't have such sharp focus. "It's..um…..it's..um.."

"Come to think of it, you do seem higher. You don't usually get level with the second control button…thingy…dealie..on the side of the screen." Purple squinted his eyes. "Did we get a new screen? Or did you?"

Zim swallowed hard. He couldn't out and out –lie- to the Tallest, who knew what consequences THAT would bring? "Not…not exactly…"

"No, we got a new screen for the back room, remember? The three-D and Surround-Sound?" Red mumbled through a mouthful of snacks. "Because –you- shorted out the last one."

"Mee? I wasn't the one who threw the cookies at the screen!"

"No, you threw the SODA! Next time you lose a bet on the bickerball game keep it to yourself!"

"That's easy for you to say, YOU didn't lose three hundred monies just because some –official-.." here Purple said the word mockingly. "Decided the last ball didn't knock the player out. But he WAS out!"

"No he wasn't. He was still moving! Anybody could see that!"

"Phah! It was just a muscle spasm. He was OUT!"

"IN!"

"OUT!"

"IN!"

"OUT!"

Zim held up a hand." Um…excuse me?"

"HE WAS IN!"

'HE WAS OUT!"

"Excuse me?..Um..my report here?"

"WHAT D'YOU WANT, A MEDICAL CHART! HE WAS IN!"

"YOU WOULDN'T KNOW HOW TO READ ONE IN THE FIRST PLACE! HE WAS OUT!"

"WATCH IT! YOU'RE SPILLING THE POPCORN!"

The fate of the snacks took their minds completely off the sport debate as they hastily retrieved the bag and the contents. Zim held up a finger and slightly waved it to and fro on the screen.

"Um…."

"What d'you want, Zim? Spit it out!" Red said crossly. Losing any morsel of a snack always shortened his temper. Purple wasn't so inclined to consider any such loss, he simply plucked up the fallen bits from the flooring and continued munching.

"Um…as I was saying…" Zim took a deep breath then spoke as rapidly as possible. "The-humans-sabotaged-my-warplans-by-attacking-me-but-I-recovered-and-am-now-working-on-a-new-plan-that-WILL-succeed-I-promise-and-I-will-give-a-full-report-about-that-later-on. Thank you! G'night!"

"Hey wait wait wait up here!" Red held up a hand. "Weren't we discussing your sudden height? I know it's not our screen. And it can't be you, physically. What did you do different? Did you remodel or something?" He usually wasn't interested in any of Zim's doings but the obvious discomfort of the little alien gave him the suspicion that there was a bit more entertainment value to be had here.

Zim looked downcast. "It's…uh….it's….um…"

By now Purple was also coming to the conclusion that there was more to this than Zim was willing to let on. "It's what, Zim?"

"Um…" Zim's antennae were flattened completely against his head in dismay as he feverously tried to think of a reasonable explanation. "It's….uhmmmmm."

"Izza PILLOWS!" Gir suddenly squealed behind him. He sprang into view and landed next to the miserable Zim. "LOTSA LOTSA PILLOWS! And a pretty red cushion too!"

"Girrr!" Zim hissed as he spun about to swat the robot off screen. As he did so he almost slipped off the pile of pillows on the chair. "Shut up!"

Red and Purple looked at each other, then they both broke into a slow grin.

"And what, pray tell, was the manner of the injury you sustained in this 'line of duty', Zim? Was it a battle?" Red said oily.

"The humans attacked me, Your Tallness." Zim repeated. That much was true, at least in his mind.

"Oooo and what weapon did they use?"

Zim's antennae drooped even further. They now hung limply straight down from his head. "Awddnbrd." He mumbled.

Purple shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. What was it again?"

"A wooden board," Zim sighed miserably. Red and Purple looked at each other, both trying very hard not to laugh.

"I didn't know the humans were so advanced as to possess such weaponry," Red managed to say through a smirk. "The horror!"

"Yeah," put in Purple. "Look at what they've reduced a mighty Invader to, sitting on pillows!"

Gir bounded into view again, upside-down this time. "The red cushion has pretty gold tassels too!"

Zim once again shoved his robot away. "Gir! Shut up and leave me alone!"

"And the couch cushions tooooooooooooo!" came the high-pitched singsong. "The waffles were too hard!"

"Waffles…?" Red scratched his head. "You were trying to sit on waffles?"

"Heh heh," Zim gave a weak embarrassed laugh. "Gir, he likes to…make up things. You know how it is!"

"I don't think I've ever had a S.I.R. unit make up stories for me." Red looked over at Purple, who shrugged.

"Me neither."

"PIGGY!" came a sudden shriek from Gir, off screen. "You're sitting on PIGGY!"

"I am NOT, Gir! I wouldn't sit on a filthy…Alpph!" Zim suddenly grabbed the console in front of him, trying to keep his balance as the pillow pile under him was being tugged at. "GIR! THAT IS NOT YOUR PIGGY! IT'S A GEL PACK! LEAVE IT ALONE!"

Too late, Gir gave the tower a final tug, sending Zim and the cushions flying about. "Piggy! Oh…You're not Piggy! Where's Piggy?"

"Y'know, sending Zim out there may have been one of the best things we've ever done," Red murmured sideways to Purple. "He's better than any comedy show on the screen! "

"Heh, yeah, and no commercials too." Purple agreed, chuckling as they watched Zim attempt to re-pile the cushions on his command chair while Gir bounced around waving the gel pack and screeching for his 'piggy'. "Maybe we could tune in once a week, record this and show it on the amusement viewer. I think we can get a few millions to tune in!"

"That's not a bad idea! So..all we have to do now is come up with a title….hmmm…how about 'The Trials of Zim'?"

"Too stuffy. 'Zim on Earth'?"

"That sounds just a bit too optimistic, like he'd actually succeed or something. 'The Zim Comedy'?"

"'The Zim Chapter'?"

"No wait, I got it. Let's keep it simple for the rest of the minions. Let's call it 'The Zim Show'!"

"Yeah! The Zim Show! It's gonna be a hit, I can tell!"

Both the Tallest got another mouthful of snacks and turned their attention back to the screen. Zim had collected all the pillows in one huge stack and was slowly shuffling back to the chair when Gir stopped his bounding by a strange looking machine in the background. Red pointed at it.

"What the starstuff is that? That's not standard issue, is it?"

"Never saw anything like it," Purple shrugged. "Maybe it's a snack-making machine?"

Red snorted. "Yeah right, as if Zim would have the brains to come up with anything useful like that!"

Gir flung the gel pack aside, sending it spinning to hit right behind Zim's knees. With a yelp the short Irken collapsed under the pile of pillows. Both Tallest burst out laughing.

"Oh this is GREAT!" Red wiped a tear from his eye. "I haven't seen anything this funny since the snergle rebellion on Tatters Three!"

"All we need now is a pie in the face!" Purple sniggered.

"Masterrrr!" Gir shouted out in his tinny high voice. "You never play with this machine anymoreeee! Izza lonelies! All alone by its lone self!"

To Zim's horror Gir gleefully bounded up to the controls. "NO GIR! DO NOT TOUCH THE CONTROLS! NOOOOOO!"

"Hm?" Gir actually stopped to look over at his master.

Zim gulped. "Please Gir. Please! Get away from that! Please! Don't touch anything! Just….get away from there!"

Purple gave Red a nudge. "Is it me or did Zim turn just a shade paler?" Red simply nodded.

"I want to see if Piggy's there!"

"He's not! Believe me! Now…just obey your master like a nice Gir and come back over here. Pleeaassseeeeeeee!"

Red and Purple looked at each other. They had never heard an Invader beg their robot to do anything before.

"But…but where's Piggy?" Gir whined. "I want Piggy!"

Zim looked around in desperation and then caught sight of Piggy in a corner. "I found Piggy, Gir. Let me get him for you, all right? Just. Don't. Touch. Anything!"

"Ok." Gir stood still, still too close to the control for Zim's comfort. "Let's play catch! Throw Piggy! Go long!" The robot held up his hands like a football receiver.

"Just…come and get him, Gir. He's over there."

Once again the robot's lip trembled. "I wanna play catch!" Then Gir brightened. "Mebbe smacking machine play catch!" As he moved to the controls Zim yelped.

"Ok! Ok! I'll play catch! Just wait! Let me get Piggy!"

Red nudged Purple. "I think I know what that machine does now. Cushions, eh?"

Purple couldn't say anything, he was trying to laugh and eat at the same time without choking.

"Ok Gir, here's Piggy. I'll throw him to you and you catch. All right?" Zim held up the rubber blobby shape. Gir squealed.

"Wheeeee! Throw Piggy!"

"Ok, just catch him, all right?" Zim heaved the pig over towards Gir. For a moment it looked as if the robot would actually succeed at actually catching it but suddenly his unruly mind caught sight of Red and Purple on the screen. The catch was instantly forgotten and he waved madly at them. "Hiiiiiii!" The piggy flew past him to land square on the controls of the machine behind him. It shivered, shuddered and gave a coughing sound. The six arms stretched out then back, then the whole thing swiveled about, as if searching for a victim. Gir stood silently in front, entranced by the lights and sounds.

"I guess we're going to be given a demonstration here," Purple murmured. "I can't believe he built something that really works!"

The machine lumbered forward and slowly past Gir. "W..w..wait a minute!" Zim stammered. "I..I..I didn't give this machine mobility! Why is it moving?"

"I put wheels on it, master!" Gir admitted cheerfully. "It couldn't dance with me if it couldn't move!"

"W….w…wheels?" Zim began backing away. "Th..th..then why is..it..coming…here…"

"Izza wants to play again! I have to go get the peanut butter and spatulas now, k!"

Gir exited the lab by the kitchen exit while Zim backed out of the screen's range, much to the disappointment of Red and Purple. "Ah c'mon! Get back this way!" Red implored. "Retreat forwards!"

From the sounds of pain they heard it was clear the machine had cornered its victim. After a few more minutes Zim staggered over to the screen controls.

"Zim….out….." he quavered. The screen went blank.

"Well, at least we got enough footage for the first episode of 'The Zim Show!'." Red observed. He reached forward and plucked the clear recording cube from the console. "If we showed this first one for free, then charge for the next episodes, I do believe we can forget about bets on bickerball anymore, even if the player was in."

"Purple ground his teeth. "He. Was. Out. Red."

"Are we going to start that again? He was IN!"

"He was OUT!"

"IN!"

"OUT!'

"IN…Hey! I think I smell nachos! And…fudge?"

"Fudgy nachos! YAY!"

~~~~ _finis ~~~_


End file.
